


old ghosts come back home

by mothwrites



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Gang Violence, Hulk family, M/M, Prologue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothwrites/pseuds/mothwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago a street fighter-turned-bodyguard with a vicious temper left the Stark gang in the middle of the night, leaving no trace or explanation.<br/>Five years later, a mild-mannered doctor with too much street knowledge starts getting noticed in the city, and he bears a surprising resemblance to Tony Stark's old lover.</p>
<p>(WE'RE BACK, BABY. First chapter has been edited and updated, chapter two is on the way!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	old ghosts come back home

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS BACK. I've edited the first chapter slightly and changed the ages of Peter and Carmilla because I want this au to have a civil-war vibe. This chapter is the prologue, chapter two is on the way! The rating may change to explicit in later chapters.  
> As always, I don't own any Marvel characters. For those of you who don't know Carmilla Black/Scorpion, I don't own her either. She's the daughter of Bruce and Monica Rappaccini in (comics) canon (probably)- go look her up, she's wicked cool. Title is from "One last poem for Richard" by Sandra Cisneros.  
> Come hang out with me on tumblr! - @bunnybanner

_Next, I make my last big_

_mistake, remember? I confess_

_I can’t finish you off._

_I tell the reason why._

_You pull me close and I feel,_

_just before the chilly_

_know-how of your .45 touches_

_my heart, trust._

 Suzanne Lummis, Double Indemnity/The Second Shot

 

Tony immediately regretted pouring a drink to calm his nerves when Banner was shown in and gave him that familiar, disappointed-yet-unsurprised expression. Tony hadn’t seen him, or suffered that look, in over five years. Bruce hadn’t changed much. A little greyer, perhaps. Strands of salt-and-pepper hair had crept in amongst his brown curls despite him still being in his twenties, and he held himself differently. Smaller. Tony  _ached_ for him.

He took another drink as Bruce rolled his eyes, and waited for him to speak first.  
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Tony finally said, after the silence got too long.

Bruce smiled at him, small and painful. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

A shrug. “You knew this was my territory.”

“And since when do you target doctors? Or is this a new Stark policy that’s come in since I’ve been away?”

“I target people who are making a name for themselves in my city. You and Jennifer should have expected this.”

He gave a slight nod. “We did. So. What do you want?”

“I want you to be more careful,  _damn_ it.” That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. If Bruce looked surprised, it was nothing compared to how Tony felt. _Business,_ he reminded himself firmly.  _Just business._

“I’m doing pretty well so far,” Bruce replied. His voice betrayed nothing, but Tony never could read him that well.

“You’re getting noticed.”

“Oh?” He looked practically amused. Tony wanted to shake him, to yell-  _do you know what you’re doing?_ He was wrong. It might look like the Bruce he’d once known but it seemed like a different man standing in front of him. A calm man. A controlled man. No hint of the vicious temper Tony knew lurked under the surface.

Five years ago, Tony had picked him up as nothing more than a quick fuck. Bruce was an orphan, (practically.) His mother died young, his father was in prison, and he’d spent most of his adolescence on the streets. He was a fighter; not particularly broad or strong, but tenacious, with enough of a self-destructive attitude in him to throw everything he had into every scrap. The first time Tony saw him up close he was spitting blood onto the sidewalk after intervening in an ambush on his behalf. He’d looked so tired. Too tired for a boy of nineteen, too bruised, too bloody- but even so, he was  _beautiful._

Tony had him that night, and was surprised to wake up in the morning and find Bruce still lying next to him, looking even younger in the dawn. He stayed on in the gang as a bodyguard, someone quiet and unassuming at Tony’s side. He was the only one unafraid to call him out on any given matter, to tease him, even, and the only one allowed to patch him up after a fight. Bruce stayed at Tony’s right hand, and in his bed, for three years.

Then he left.

Staring at him from across his office, Tony couldn’t say how much of  _his_ Bruce had come back.

“What do you want, Stark?” Bruce repeated.

“I’ll be your patron,” Tony found himself saying. “For the clinic. It’s sweet, but you won’t survive long if you keep refusing payment.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“The joy of public service? Uh.” He looked him up and down, pointedly. “Making sure you’ve got enough to eat?”

“Fuck off.”

Tony inwardly flinched. He forgot - Bruce didn’t  _do_ charity. “Look, all I ask is that you treat my men first,” he amended. And then added: “our medic ran away, you see. Some time ago. Make sure you’re available to us when we need you and I’ll see your clinic continues without a hitch, sound fun?”

“I’ve had the same offer from Steve,” Bruce replied. “Why shouldn’t I go with him?”

“I know things he doesn’t. About you, not just in general. Though the latter is true as well.”

“Oh?”

Tony felt the risk in the air, and took it. It had always been his style. “You’ve got a daughter to support now.”

Bruce’s face turned cold, and for a wild second, Tony thought he was going to hit him. Instead he surged forward, and trapped Tony against the desk he was leaning on, a hand on either side of him. Bruce’s face was inches from his, and he had to fight a crazy desire to bury his face in his neck and kiss him,  _reclaim_ him. But he kept still and silent. Bruce snarled in his face, “If that’s a threat-”

“It’s a  _warning._ Other people would  _love_ to know about something like that, that they could use against you- you left a lot of enemies behind, you know.”

“And some friends. I thought.”

“Bringing her here was  _stupid_ , Bruce. How old is she? 16? 18?”

“16,” Bruce confirmed. And then strangely enough, he smiled. “And how old is Peter? About the same, I think. Looks like we’ve both been busy.”

He could only stare. “How did you-”

“He got into a street fight. Nothing serious,” Bruce hastily added, seeing Tony’s eyes widen, “just kids messing around. I saw it and patched him up, same as for anyone. Only once the kid got talking, it wasn’t hard to see who he belonged to.” He watched him carefully, taking in his reactions. “It’s a secret, then?”

“He’s just an orphan, I pay for his upkeep. He lives with his aunt, I don’t want him growing up in-” Tony gestured to their surroundings, the office in which Bruce had restrained men to be questioned, and Tony had shot dead. Amongst other things. “In  _this_. He’s too young. Too  _good_.”

“Sweet kid,” Bruce agreed. “Who else knows?”

“Just you, me and Pepper. So you’ve got the power here, big guy. What are you going to do with it?”

“You know I’d never use a child against anyone. Neither would you- anymore, anyway. Am I right?” Bruce paused, relaxed back into a standing position: still close, but no longer aggressive. “I’m right. And so are you, we need the money.”

Relief washed over him, more so than he’d care to admit. “So you’ll come back?”

“Yes. But I come here, you understand? This doesn’t come near Cam.”

“Cam?”

“Carmilla.”

“Banner?”

A pause. “Rappaccini. Jen’s getting it changed for us. Speaking of which, I notice you’re not looking to become a patron of legal aid.”

“I’ll look into it.” Bruce nodded, and then remained silent. Fidgety. With an unpleasant jolt, Tony realised he was waiting for permission to go.  _Times really have changed._

“That’s all,” he reluctantly concluded, “if you need to go.”

Bruce nodded. “Things to do. It was-” and then he stopped, and changed, almost imperceptibly. He became softer and looked at him fondly for the first time that night. “Tony...”

The change in address startled him, and he felt himself grow harder, and cold. “ _I said that’s all.”_

“I  _heard_ you. I was just waiting to see if you were going to call someone to escort me out.” Bruce gestured to the empty space around them. “Apparently not. Just wondering, though- you never replaced me?”

Tony snorted. “You think you’re irreplaceable? You’re just not a threat.” He regretted- or didn’t regret at all- that statement, when Bruce laughed in his face, suddenly playful. It broke something in him, there was that drive again to  _claim,_  and before he knew it he’d surged forward and pinned him against the wall. Bruce was malleable, pliable, still chuckling.

“Feel better?”

_“Fuck_ you,” Tony spat out, and kissed him.

“God, I missed you.” Bruce breathed into his hair, his neck, his mouth. “California’s got nothing on New York, Tones, there’s no-one there worth a damn. No-one as powerful.”

“Stop trying to appeal to my ego,” Tony managed to get out before he was being kissed senseless again, the way Bruce kissed when he was 19, all teeth and bruised lips. “No- come  _on,_ Bruce,” he got out in between kisses. “Can’t do this to me, fuck.  _Where have you been?”_

Bruce leaned back. “Here and there. Someone spilled the beans about Cam and I had to go find her. You know what Monica’s lot are like.” He stared at him pleadingly, with those deep brown eyes that Tony had watched fool so many people. “She’s just a little girl.”

“Ugh, don’t do that.” He thought unwillingly of Peter: his skinny stick of a boy with the mop of coffee-coloured hair. Since when did he get so soft about kids? “It doesn’t explain why you ran away,” he pointed out. “Bruce, you could have been fucking  _dead_ for all I knew. You get that? You get how out of my mind I was looking for you? And then we hear you’ve been sighted doing whatever-the-fuck in god-knows-where and I look like a fool. A  _fool._  My right-hand man leaves me in the goddamn lurch and  _why?”_

It wasn't like he expected Bruce to apologise. But when he shrugged, and said, “I just didn’t like you anymore, Tony,” it was like a punch in the gut. “I mean, I  _loved_ you,” Bruce continued. “Love you still, if I’m honest, but you changed. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like myself when I was with you. Didn’t like how I was hurting people just ‘cause it made you happy. Didn’t like how it made  _me_ happy, doing it.”

Tony was suddenly reminded of the fact that Bruce had never killed for him, unlike all the others. But he’d done a hell of a lot else.

“You were already a fighter when I picked you up,” he reminded him, though his mind was still singing  _love you still, love you still,_ and it was getting hard to concentrate.

“Yes, to  _survive._ Not to- it doesn’t matter. I’m back now. I’m  _different_ now. I have to be.”

“For Cam?”

Bruce nodded. “Of course. But also for me.”

Tony stepped back and brushed down his suit jacket. Bruce rocked back onto the balls of his feet, no longer on tiptoe so he could drag Tony down into his kisses, though his fingers fidgeted like he was thinking about pulling him closer again anyway.

“I want you to leave now.” It wasn’t quite an order, but Bruce nodded anyway.

“I need to get back to the girls. But it was good to see you.”

“Maybe I’ll come round and see you some time,” Tony said. “Meet the kid.”

“No, you won’t.” Bruce fixed his collar, and looked like he was about to say something else- but then closed his mouth, and left without another word. As soon as he left, Natasha slipped in and leaned against the doorframe, popping bubblegum.

“Get what you wanted?”

“Almost.” He looked up at her and took in the dress, the heels. “Going out?”

“I felt like I deserved a night off. There’s a new dance joint open tonight that I want to check out.”

“Have a drink on me,” he said, nodding for her to leave. She blew another bubble to make him smile, and then closed the door, leaving him in the office alone.

 *

Natasha did take the train down to the city, but stopped a few streets away from the bar. There was a payphone at the corner, and after scanning the passers-by, she dialled a number she knew by heart and waited exactly five rings, before she hung up and called again. It was answered immediately.

“Nat?”

“Hey, darling. I’ve got the night off. Come pick me up?” There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “I’m heading to our favourite place. You remember?”

“Sure thing. We gonna have a dance, first? It’s Friday night, after all.”

“Won’t dance with you if you’re late,” she teased. “It’s been a long week with only Stark for company.”

“I’d better get moving, then. See you soon, Natalia.”

“Don’t be long, James. And tell Steve-” she thought back to what she’d heard outside the office, and smiled. “Tell Steve I’ve got some news he’ll be very interested in.”


End file.
